IF the home is a “domestic church”, then the family table is its altar.

Everyday, we should gather there to share in the communion of one another’s presence. Our dining rooms should be adorned with pictures, icons, and crosses which remind us of the Sacred. We should take time to savor not only our daily bread, but to sing the hymns of our daily lives, strewn with victories and hardships.

Above all, it should be a place of prayer, that Christ may become the invisible tabernacle in the center of our room. Or rather, that the invisible tabernacle may be opened, and Christ adored where two or three are gathered.

And if anyone has a grievance against his brother or sister, mother or father, he should speak with that one before supping, and exchange the sign of peace–that is–forgiveness.

Yes, if our homes were to become domestic churches, this aching loneliness which simmers beneath North America’s technological comforts would be lanced. For we would discover Him for whom we long, there, seated beside me, in my brother, my sister, my mother, and my father.

As it is, our televisions have become the new tabernacle, and our computer rooms, the new chapels. We are the lonelier for it.

Three of our seven kids at supper: “the sacrament of family”